


Who We Really Are

by lasvegas_lights



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasvegas_lights/pseuds/lasvegas_lights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short Teen Wolf stories. Chapters 1 + 2 are about Stiles, Chapter 3 is Sterek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Job

When Stiles was four, he proclaimed at the dinner table that he wanted to be a giraffe when he grew up which could be traced back to the recent visit to the zoo. 

When his mom was sick he considered being a doctor, but he had a slight (major) phobia of needles. 

Deep down, he always knew what he was destined to do.

It was clear when he snuck down after his dad had gone to bed to read through the newest case files left on the kitchen table, his mind whirring long after he had tip-toed back upstairs to bed or when he spent hours memorising every single police radio code just because he could.

He had always been into puzzles, it was the only thing that would focus him, turn him from a hyperactive nuisance to a calm and well behaved angel. He liked having all the clues and working out how it all fitted together, doing the research and making the connections that not everyone sees. 

He was the one that figured out which no so mythical beast his best friend was turning into.

He was the one who figured out the connection between all the deaths happening in Beacon Hills and who was behind it. And all it did was increase his thirst for more puzzles to solve. 

As everyone started filling in college applications and worrying about where they were going to go and how they were going to pay for it, Stiles was downloading a police academy application form off their website and filling it out quietly. 

When asked what college he was planning on attending, Stiles would brush them off and deflect the question, and when they pushed he gave them vague plans of taking a year off to save up some money. 

He didn’t know why he couldn’t tell them, maybe he just didn’t want to jinx things, or maybe he didn’t want to hear people call him predictable, following in his father’s footsteps.

Two weeks after his eighteenth birthday he drives two hours to the county police academy to take their test. His foot taps against the floor for the entire exam and he nearly chews off half the pencil but he feels good when he hands the paper in. He can feel the beginning of something new and exciting as he drives back to Beacon Hills.

The acceptance letter comes through another month later, and laughter bubbles up out of his throat as he reads it. After all the nervous energy is expelled from his body, he descends the stairs and stops in the kitchen doorway. 

The Sheriff looks up at him from over his reading glasses and puts down the file in his hands. Without saying a word, Stiles passes the letter to his dad and waits for the inevitable reaction. 

“Well,” his father says a long moment later, “I think this means I owe your mom ten bucks.”


	2. The Jeep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the relationship between Stiles and his Jeep

He asked for a car for his sixteenth birthday, just every other teenager does, not that he had expected much on his dad’s salary. His dad had certainly looked doubtful when he had asked for dinner one night.

He collected pictures of cool sleek cars on his computer since he turned twelve, and whistled as flashy cars sped past the squad car, just shy of the speed limit, before shoving another handful of curly fries into his mouth.

On his birthday, after opening cards from Scott and a few distant relatives, his dad hands him a box. His hand shakes as he opens it up to find a set of scratched and dirtied car keys attached to a shiny new keychain. His eyebrows rise into his forehead. “Are you serious?” He looks to his father who stands in front of him, grinning.

"I’ve been saving up for a few months, a little here and there,” the Sheriff shrugs. Stiles wonders when his father went without to save up for it.

His father leads him out the front door and proudly gestures to a bright blue jeep sitting in the driveway.

Stiles hates it immediately.

It’s huge and bulky with bits of rust and scratches. One of the headlights looks like it’s about to fall off and through the window he spies mismatched seat covers and a _cassette tape player_.

It’s nothing like those pictures of sexy fast cars in his collection. He didn’t even know cars _came_ in that colour.

He puts on a wide, slightly forced, smile and hugs his father tightly.

Something happens though, when he passes his test and he’s finally let loose on the roads: He starts the engine and something settles inside of him.

When he’s forced to defend his wheels against teasing comments from friends, he slowly starts to believe what he’s telling them.

He starts saving his own money to fix the little scratches and dents, teaches himself basic mechanics so he can keep it running, and soon, learning the freedom that having a car brings, he can’t see himself driving anything else.

His blue jeep has its own personality, it’s quirky and in your face and unapologetic… Just like Stiles.

The collection of fast cars on his computer stops as he starts protecting his baby from werewolves with anger issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find my fics and me on Tumblr: [Lasvegas-Lights](http://lasvegas-lights.tumblr.com) I also make graphics! Come say hi.


	3. Washed Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after 3x03 Fireflies

Stiles is waiting for him in the loft when he uses the last of his energy to push back the heavy door and force his lead-heavy legs inside. Stopping mid-pace, Stiles looks up with wide eyes that only widen further when he sees Derek’s ripped shirt and the drying blood underneath it. He doesn’t say anything, though it wasn’t unusual for Stiles to be quiet around Derek, especially since he’d become an expert in reading Stiles’ body language. Derek doesn’t know when that happened. 

Stiles cracks his knuckles with a sense of determination and disappears for a long moment, returning with a bowl of hot water and a clean flannel. 

“Shirt off, sit,” Stiles orders firmly and Derek finds it surprisingly easy to do as he’s told, sitting down on the edge of his bed and discarding the destroyed t-shirt on the floor.   
His skin is healed, he can feel the warm tight skin in place of sharp jagged claw marks, but the pain from each cut is still vivid in his memory. Just because he heals, doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel.

Stiles sits down beside him, pushes the cloth into the soapy water, wrings it out and then presses it softly against Derek’s shoulder, wiping away the dried blood with careful unhurried movements.

“She’s pretty.” 

“Hmm?” Derek hums.

“Mrs Blake,” Stiles continues, “Jennifer,” He says her name like it’s a foreign word. “Scott told me you took her home, sounds like she was pretty freaked” The cloth goes back into the water and back out again, the water in the bowl turns pink. “That’s how big romances start right? The guy rescues the girl from bloodthirsty werewolves and they live happily ever-

Derek’s hand wraps around Stiles’ wrist, stops him, “Don’t,” Their eyes meet for the briefest of seconds, Stiles’ breath hitches and Derek’s hand burns until he releases it. 

Stiles lets out a long sigh, “Are they alright? Cora and Boyd?” He asks, deliberately changing the subject. They’re not ready to talk about it, not yet. 

“Safe,” Derek answers “They’re safe.”

Another dip into the water as Stiles continues, the water turns a darker pink. Neither talk as Stiles moves to Derek’s chest, cleaning away the evidence of fury over his heart.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Stiles responds quickly, avoiding Derek’s gaze, “You know that.”

Derek’s eyes close and when he wakes it’s light outside. Stiles is gone, the bowl is empty and there’s missed calls from Isaac and Scott on his phone. The pain is gone and in its place, his skin remembers the brush of fingertips, gentle but firm, as Stiles washes him clean.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my fics and me on Tumblr: [Lasvegas-Lights](http://lasvegas-lights.tumblr.com) I also make graphics! Come say hi.


End file.
